


Oral assignment

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Modern AUs [7]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Classroom Sex, Daddy Kink, F/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Teacher's Pet, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-17 02:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: It’s Hiddlesmut time! Part 2 will feature Ivar.I've tried to keep the descriptions of the female character to a minimum, but she does have a last name.Cred goes to wanderingsorceress27 over on tumblr who tagged me in an imagine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dubcon: Because she is his student, there is definitely a power imbalance. BUT she does consent to and enjoy everything.

 

It's the last day of school before Christmas break and most teachers have already ended their classes; but not my professor. I'm starting to think that he has some sort of sadistic streak because about 15 minutes ago, he allowed us a short break just in time to see every other student head for the exits while wishing each other happy holidays. Knowing Professor Hiddleston, he is going to talk for at least another 30 minutes. It could be worse, I guess. At least he has a pleasant voice to listen too; maybe too pleasant because I drift off into daydreams more often than not during his lectures. He turns to write something on the board and I automatically bite my lip at the sight of his arm stretching, shirt sleeve rolled up so that his lower arm is exposed. Something sharp pokes at my ribs, making me jump a little in surprise. Looking to my right I see my friend staring at me, a pen in his hand and jealousy clear in his face. Ivar has never made a pass at me but he still gets worked up as soon as I look at someone else. _Possessive little shit_.

”Stop drooling over him.” Ivar hisses under his breath.

”Why?” I ask in the lowest voice possible.

”He's the enemy. Keeping us here when we could already be heading home to our families.”

”You don't even like your family.” I bite back. Ivar opens his mouth, about to retort to my snippy remark when an authoritative voice cuts through the air.

“Miss Karlsson, mr Ragnarsson; is there anything you'd like to share with the class?” I sit up straight in my seat, fighting the instinct to cower under the professor's glare.

“N-no, professor.” I stutter “I'm sorry.” My classmates glance at me, not bothering with trying to hide their snickering; they're not used to watching the teacher's pet get reamed out.

“Are you going to be quiet?” He asks and I nod in response. There's a flash of something predatory in his eyes as he speaks again.

“I doubt that.” _What?_ “Stay after class, both of you.” With that, he turns back to check his notes and continues the lecture. My heart is still beating at a furious pace when Ivar leans in to murmur in my ear, nearly making me jump again.

“This never would have happened if you hadn't ogled him.” I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him.

 

I'm surprised by how quickly professor Hiddleston finishes the lecture; it only takes 15 minutes before he closes his notebook and dismisses our classmates. I stand next to Ivar as he packs his things and backs his wheelchair away from the small table. We manoeuvre our way between the chairs and tables until we make it to the desk, where professor Hiddleston sits in his chair. He motions for us to come closer and we stop so that the only thing separating us is the desk. He looks us over and I suddenly feel very self-conscious about my choice of clothing and hairstyle today. The feeling only intensifies as Professor Hiddleston gestures at my skirt and the yellow knitted pantihose.

“Aren't you cold?” He asks in a surprisingly soft voice and Ivar tenses next to me. I shrug my shoulders, not sure why he's asking this or what sort of answer he's expecting.

“My blood runs warm, I guess.” My answer seems to amuse him because a smile lights up his features, but only for half a second. I shift my stance and fiddle with the shoulder strap of my bag. Maybe I imagined that smile, just like I have imagined his hands roaming every last inch of me countless times.

“My first thought was to give you a written assignment each to hand in before New Year's eve.” My heart sinks; there is no way I'll have time to do that between meeting family and working.

“And what was your second thought?” Ivar grunts from where he's seated in his wheelchair next to me. I turn my head to glare at him, not believing he has the guts to speak to the professor like this; especially now that we're already in trouble. Professor Hiddleston doesn't seem too bothered though.

“An oral assignment.” Both Ivar and I pause, not sure how he intends for us to do an oral assignment, which usually means a seminar, while off campus.

“Are we supposed to record...” Ivar starts but is cut off by our professor.

“You don't need to concern yourself with this assignment, mr Ragnarsson. She will take the punishment for both of you; seeing your friend face the repercussions should make you reconsider your behaviour.” He keeps his gaze fixed on me while speaking. I open my mouth and try to tell him how unfair that is but there's something in his voice that makes me forget how to speak, and all that comes out is incoherent noises.

“I-i, umm, ho-how...” He reaches a hand out and curls his fingers in a beckoning motion, making me fall silent again.

“Come here, miss Karlsson.” My legs feel like jelly as I walk around the desk, stopping when I am standing just a step or two away from him. He tssks at me.

“There.” He points to the small space between the chair he's sitting in and the desk; I silently obey. Once I have moved into the tight space he lets his eyes glide over me again and this time I visibly shudder. The professor rises from his chair, further shrinking the space between us. I don't say or do anything to stop him as his long fingers wrap around my wrist and guide my hand to his crotch. When I feel the beginning of his arousal I let out a small yelp and close my eyes.

“Look at me.” He demands and once again I obey without hesitation. He places a finger under my chin, tilting it up, and he speaks again.

“Do you understand?” I force myself to take a deep breath, steadying myself for what is about to happen; I nod in response. The professor wastes no time in moving his hands so that he's gripping at my left shoulder and my right hip. For a second, I wonder what is going through Ivar's mind right now but the thought quickly disappears as my backside is pressed against the desk. I whimper at the sight of him towering above me.

“Professor Hiddleston.” He tugs at my blouse while chiding me.

“Don't call me that, little one.”

“Thomas?” I try, voice barely a whisper. He shakes his head, apparently not liking the sound of this either.

“No, not that either.“ He begins to trace my lips with his thumb and I nearly moan at the feeling of the smooth skin dragging around my mouth. After a short silence he locks eyes with me.

“How do you feel about calling me daddy, little one?” His words nearly make my knees fold and I barely register the way Ivar screeches behind me. The sight of my surely blown out pupils and the sound of a whimper escaping my mouth seems to be answer enough for the professor because a smirk appears on his perfect features. He leans in and for a second I forget how to breathe. Then Ivar screams again and I jump in surprise; the loud noise momentarily breaking the spell of what is happening between me and the professor.

“That's sick! You're her fucking teacher!” I'm tempted to turn around and reach over the desk to punch Ivar in the face but professor Hiddleston reacts before me. He heaves a sigh and straightens his back, towering over me where I'm leaning against the desk. He strides around it and grabs the handles of Ivar's wheelchair. As I expect, Ivar snarls his usual comment for when someone tries to push him around.

“There's nothing wrong with my arms, I'm perfectly capable of moving around on my own.” The professor ignores his student's comment and I watch as he begins to push Ivar through the room. My friend seems to be too preoccupied with looking over his shoulder and growling every insult he can think of to realize what is happening and I give him no warning; only watch with wide eyes. It's not until professor Hiddleston opens the door that Ivar catches on. His eyes dart back and forth and he sputters something incoherent. The professor pushes Ivar out into the corridor.

“Happy holidays, mr Ragnarsson.” He slams the door shut and locks it, leaving Ivar out in the corridor and returns to me with that same predatory look that I saw during the lecture darkening his features.

“Where were we?” Before I can answer, he takes my hand and tugs to make me stand up straight again. The professor releases me and I look up at him under my lashes, silently waiting for his next order.

“On your knees.” I have been told by almost all of my partners that my lips feel divine around their length; so why is there a feeling of heavy insecurity settling over me now? Kneeling on the cold floor in front of him, I lower my gaze so that he won't see the nervousness in my eyes. Even as he begins to open his belt and zip, my eyes are fixed on the ground. His navy blue dress pants pool around his ankles and he sinks back into the chair right in front of me. Still, I don't move. A hand comes to rest under my chin, forcing me to look up so that I can see the way his bottom lip is thrust out in a pout.

“You're not going to disappoint daddy; are you, little one?” I shake my head.

“No, I want daddy to be happy.” As always, I begin carefully. One hand wraps around his base and the other cups his balls, slowly rolling them in my palm. The professor moans and sinks deeper into the chair, head falling backwards. I expect him to quickly grow impatient and snarl for me to just suck him already. Instead, he says something that sends a wave of heat through my body.

“Such a good girl, remembering that I want my students to pay attention to details.” Always the teacher's pet, I find encouragement in his raspy praise. I begin to move my hand up and down his length, darting my tongue out to lap up the precum. A strong hand grabs the back of my head but he doesn't push me closer. I let my hand wander from between his legs and slide it under his shirt to feel at his stomach, whimpering at the realization that he's even more fit than I have imagined. He chuckles at my noise and reaches his free hand out to caress my cheek. I allow myself to lean into his touch for a second, revelling in the smoothness of his palm before deciding that I don't want to make him wait any longer. Turning back to his cock, my mouth opens to let the tip of it inside. He growls again as my tongue swirls just under his head and he tightens his grip on my head. I slide further down on his length, stopping only when I can't go any further, and suck my cheeks in to envelop him closer. He shifts a little in his chair and I move my neck to keep my grip on him.

“Shit, you feel so good.” He murmurs, and again the teacher's pet in me squeals with excitement; I can't wait to hear him praise me once I've swallowed his cum. My head begins to bob up and down, taking a brief pause to let his head rub against the roof of my mouth before taking him further in again. A few more movements up and down and I can feel the way his body stiffens in the chair, fingernails raking over the back of my head. Looking up I see him bite down on his own lip as he cums in my mouth. It is less bitter than any load I've swallowed before and my throat easily lets it down. His hands gradually loose their grip and begin to pet my cheeks instead.

“You did so well, little one. I think I will have to reward you; would you like that?” Feeling a trickle of his cum at the corner of my mouth, I collect it with the tip of my pointer finger and promptly stick it in my mouth, humming as I suck it clean. Looking up at him from under fluttering eyelashes I can see the way his jaw has gone slack. There's a small pop as I release my finger and my words come out as a whimper while I shamelessly squirm in front of him.

“Please, daddy, reward me.” I barely have time to react before he's on me, pulling at my arms so hard that there surely will be marks to show for it. He makes me stand in front of him, lightly squeezing my ass through the fabric of my skirt before moving on. His hands snake up under my skirt and begin to skim over the waistline of my knitted pantihose. He purrs as he discovers what's under them.

“Lace? Oh my.” Once both my shoes and pantihose have been discarded, he takes my panties and holds them up for me to see.

“Do you always dress this nicely or is it for someone special back home?” I give him a shy smile.

“It's for you, daddy.” His pupils blow even wider than I would've thought possible and he actually growls at me. He pulls me down to sit on his lap. I gasp and begin to wriggle as his long, thin fingers dive under my skirt again to caress my thigh. My inability to sit still is swiftly punished with a series of harsh pinches to the soft flesh.

“Stay still, little one.” He warns, each word accompanied by the sensation of his thumb and pointer finger squeezing my skin between them. I squeal, not sure if it's more in pain or in pleasure and use every last bit of my self-control to sit still on top of his naked lap.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, little one?” He asks sweetly, never ceasing his assault between my thighs. One of my hands wander to his hair; the snow fall must have ruined his usually smoothed 'do because today his head is covered in soft curls.

“Your hair; I want to pull at it when you make me come, daddy.” He chuckles at the neediness in my voice and tilts his head so that it's pushed against my hand. The sound of his laughter only makes me more eager and I bury my fingers in the soft strands, putting all of my focus there to keep myself from writhing all over his lap. He wraps an arm around my waist and uses his thumb to draw circles into my lower stomach while his other hand teases at my opening. I whimper then and shoot my hips forward to urge him on.

“So impatient.” He says with a smile. When he works the first finger inside, I arch my back and tug lightly at his curls. A short moment later he adds a second finger and this time I gasp loudly; it's impossible to sit still now. Thankfully, he allows my squirming this time; his smile only growing wider as I rub against his lap. When his fingers begin to curl inside I moan and pull at his hair almost violently but that only serves to egg him on. Within seconds I throw my head back and cry out into the empty classroom as the fire between my legs explode.

“Daddy!” He growls again and continues working his fingers until I come down from my high. I rest my head against his as he retracts his hand and he wraps both arms around me. My professor pulls me closer, his lips ghosting over the side of my face as I try to process everything that just happened.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar's turn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW TAGS: Friends-turned-lovers, friendzone crap, vaginal sex, fluff, fluff and smut, referenced drinking, ableist language, jealousy

I've forgotten about giving Ivar the spare key to my dorm room and so the sight of him sitting in his wheelchair next to my bed makes me twitch in surprise.

“You scared me.” I scold him without any real weight behind the words; my skin is still tingling with the sensation of my professor's hands running over me. Ivar doesn't say anything, only grinds his teeth harder together. I sigh and close the door behind me.

“Aren't you happy? No extra assignment for you; how about a 'thank you'?”

“A 'thank you'? For fucking someone else?” He growls. I scoff, then raise a finger to point at him while my other hand plants itself firmly on my hip.

“I swear to god Ivar; if you say 'friendzone' I'm never talking to you again.” He begins to say something but before he can get the words out I rush across the room and slam my hands down on the armrests of his wheelchair.

“No! We've known each other for more than three years; you've had every chance to say something and it's not my fault that you haven't.” Ivar hangs his head, refusing to meet the fire in my eyes. My ragged breathing begins to slow again and I straighten my back, letting go of the armrests. When he finally says something the words come out so low that I barely hear them.

“And if I say something now?” My mouth falls open. Ivar lifts his gaze from his lap, locking onto me with his piercing eyes as he waits for an answer. Finding the words is more difficult than I have imagined.

“I-I-uhm...” He grows tired of waiting for me to answer. Tilting his head to the side, he speaks; voice dripping with bitterness.

“Is it too late, is he your boyfriend now?” I look down on my feet before answering.

“No.” He couldn't be, we both knew that and had agreed on it before I left the classroom.

“Then I'm saying something.” I open my mouth, about to utter something about how this might not be the best idea but Ivar cuts me off.

“What? Do you think I can't satisfy a woman?” He gestures at his legs. I know that isn't true. At the end of our first semester, some of our classmates had arranged a big party. As the evening progressed, more and more of them had ended up in tangled messes, clawing at each other and smacking their lips together. Ivar sat alone and that didn't go unnoticed; one of the other boys had briefly let go of the girl that was eagerly rubbing up against him and called out for everyone to hear.

“No one interested in your crippled cock? Don't worry, I might let you get a good view of Hanna's tits so you'll have something to jack off too.” He emphasized his last words by grabbing on to the girl's breasts and squeezing them while flashing Ivar a smug grin. Everyone that heard started laughing, including Simon that had spent the last 15 minutes trying to convince me that my boyfriend would never find out if he and I were to hook up. I saw the way Ivar's knuckles turned white as he held on tightly to the beer bottle and my pulse immediately went up; I had seen his bad temper before and I doubted that his level of drunkenness would help. I waited for Ivar to scream, to throw the bottle against the jackass, to do anything really. I had no intention of stopping whatever revenge he would take. He set the bottle down on the bench next to him and turned his wheelchair around, struggling to move it on the uneven ground. Once the initial shock had faded I hurried to follow him. He stopped just out of sight from the bonfire where our classmates were busy feeling each other up. When he realized that I had followed him, Ivar pulled me down on his lap and admitted in a hushed voice that he'd gone through somewhat of a slut phase right before starting college upon learning that his cock wasn't affected by his condition.

“Those first girls only slept with me because of my family name, endured my fumbling hands because they wanted shiny things.” His arm had wrapped tighter around my waist as he continued whispering into my ear.

“But I learned. I'm a very good student, you know?” My heart was ready to jump out of my chest. He looked so tempting that night; hair let down, two top shirt buttons open. Ivar gave up some noise like a wounded animal and I snapped my neck back up to meet his gaze that he struggled to keep steady.

“No one here will believe that though. It's fucking high school all over again.” The thought of John was the only thing that kept me from asking him to come home with me that night. Well, that and Ivar barfing not ten seconds later. We're sober now though and John, Overlord of all douchebags, isn't my boyfriend any more.

“Okay.” Even though I'm whispering, it sounds so loud in the quiet dorm room.

“Okay?” Ivar echoes. I don't allow myself time to hesitate. Leaning down, I cup his face in my hands and press my lips to his. He tenses in my grip but I stay glued to him, waiting for him to reciprocate. It feels like an eternity, and I am on the verge of running away, before he softens and begins working his plump lips against mine. The faint taste of cinnamon coming from him makes me smile; he likes to say that he hates everything related to Christmas but I've seen him add cinnamon to his coffee for over a month now and even caught him looking longingly at decorations. One of his hands come to rest against my face and I moan as the thumb starts to rub circles at the back of my jaw. Ivar whines loudly as I begin to tug at his shirt, pulling it up from where it's neatly tucked into his jeans. My back and neck is starting to protest against the awkward angle at which I'm standing but I fight against it a little longer so that I can grope at his hard stomach. Ivar carefully grabs onto my hips and sighs into my mouth. When I finally pull away he leans forward, trying to capture my lips again. My head is spinning. Maybe this is all happening too quickly, maybe I'm going to regret it as soon as it's over; right now I don't care. Ivar feels like home and I need more of it. He turns his head to stare at me as I kick my boots off and sit down on my bed. I flash a shy smile at him, hoping that he won't tell me it was just a joke. He turns his wheelchair so that he can look directly at me.

“We don't have to.” I say quickly, spotting the hesitation in his sharp features “It's just that I'm afraid that if we're apart for the entire Christmas break we'll come up with some excuse not to do this and then another three years will go...” My rambling keeps me from noticing that Ivar is moving closer. He places a trembling hand on my upper leg, making me blush. I take his other hand and bring it to my mouth, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. We pull apart again and Ivar begins to push himself to standing. Out of reflex, I reach my hands out to help him. He shakes his head at me.

“Don't.” My arms fall back to my sides when I hear the pleading in his voice. Instead, I scoot further in on the bed to give him space while Ivar proceeds to move out of his wheelchair. With one hand he holds on to the armrest and with the other he nudges at my shoulder. I lie down on my back, hoping that I didn't misinterpret what he wanted. The mattress shifts with his movements and I try not to stare as he struggles with getting into bed. Then he begins to drag himself on top of me and it's impossible not to admire the way the muscles of his arms flex as he covers my body with his. There's something soft in his usually scrutinizing eyes and for once I have no trouble believing he's just 22. Burying my hands in his hair, I try to ease his doubts by bringing him in for another kiss. He musters up the courage to slip his hands under my skirt and I lift my hips to help him undress me. He is careful, even more careful than the professor was. But with Ivar it seems to be out of genuine care for me; he doesn't want to hurt me. The professor just didn't want to leave any too obvious marks of what he'd done. The feeling of me grabbing at his shirt makes him lift his gaze from my nakedness.

“Let me see.” I beg, voice more strained than I expected. He holds himself up over me while I fumble with the buttons until I can slide the shirt down his shoulders. I trace his chest and shoulders, admiring what I have only caught brief glimpses of before. A high-pitched whine escapes me as I notice the v on his hips and I turn my attention to his jeans, determined to rid him off them. He lets me open them and push them down so I can see the lower edge of his boxer briefs but stops me when I try to push them further down.

“Legs too.” I say, pressing several small kisses to the corner of his mouth. He grimaces but doesn't answer.

“Please, love.” I beg again, pushing my hips into his and moaning as I feel the bulge against my aching centre. Ivar draws in a shaky breath then nods and I wrap my arms around him, giving him a reassuring hug before pushing his pants down the rest of the way. Once the jeans are gone my legs carefully wind around his, waiting for any sign that this might be painful for him. We don't talk about them; it is a ground rule that he had made damn sure to establish early in our friendship. When he doesn't seem to be hurt by it my hands begin to follow the curve of his ass; going back and forth over the white boxer briefs. Ivar has stayed as still as a statue during the entire time I exposed and then intertwined with his legs but now he reacts. Those plump lips that taste of cinnamon begin to work against the side of my neck and I lift my chin up to give him better access. He trails a path from neck to throat while I squirm and rake my fingernails down his back. Ivar growls into my skin and suddenly pulls back, looking down at me with wide eyes.

“Take it off.” He murmurs, tugging at my jumper and the camisole under it. I help him pull them over my head and as soon as they're gone he unclasps my bra, his hands a bit steadier now. I expect him to immediately dive for my breasts but instead he presses a kiss to my brow. His breath fans against my forehead.

“You're so pretty. Why are you so pretty?” It seems impossible but my body turns even warmer at his words and I'm sure my embarrassment is visible. Not knowing what to say to his softly voiced compliment, I close my eyes and pet his hair. Ivar smiles against my forehead and pat at my hip to make me let go of his legs. Free from my grip, he scoots further down in bed while leaving wet kisses down my chest and stomach. When he finally reaches his destination my breath hitches in my throat. Ivar notices and I swear I can feel him chuckling against my slick folds as he continues to drag his tongue in broad strokes over them. I'm growing impatient and tug at his silky hair to urge him on. At first he retreats and I screech in anger but he quickly turns it into a whimper as he brings a hand there instead, working his index and middle finger inside me. My hips shoot straight up off the bed, a familiar knot beginning to form in my stomach. Ivar ducks his head back down and finds my clit; sucking at it with eager lips. His digits curl inside me, slowly at first and then more eagerly as I pant that I can't take it much longer. Suddenly, he drags his teeth over my sensitive nub and the knot I my stomach explodes into overwhelming heat, overtaking every inch of me. My toes curl and I pull at his hair so violently that he swears under his breath.

“Di-did I hurt you?” I ask when he lifts his head again, voice a little weak from my climax. Ivar doesn't answer, only hurries to guide my hands to his boxers. I help him undress and he drags himself on top of me again. Ivar clasps at the bedlinen with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to my opening. I gasp as the head presses inside and cling to his shoulders. Once fully sheathed inside, he drops his head and presses a kiss to my cheek. I wrap my legs around his waist to bring him in deeper. He begins to move and my fingernails dig into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Ivar's lips find mine, swallowing the moans that he's drawing out of me with his slow thrusts. With each time he drives his length inside me I scold myself more for not having told him sooner, for being afraid of rejection as soon as he'd had his way with me. His thrusts come quicker now and he presses a hand between us to work at my clit. His face is scrunched up in concentration as he circles it with his thumb and he doesn't stop until I've climaxed again. I look up at him, flashing a dazed smile as he continues thrusting until his hips stutter and he moans. Ivar collapses on top of me, resting his head tightly pressed against mine while his cock softens inside me. Once we've both settled down he pulls out and rolls to the side, tugging at me to follow him.

 

Nestling in the crook of his neck feels just right, his muscular arm wrapped around me and broad chest moving in sync with mine. I'm just about to fall asleep when Ivar clears his throat.

“For the record, I was going to tell you.”

“When?” I murmur, barely listening. His answer rouses me from my near-sleep state.

“At the Halloween party, during our first semester. Then you showed up with that asshat John, telling me you'd gotten back together.” I can't stop the laughter from erupting.

“What is it?” Ivar asks.

“We're so fucking stupid, Ivar.” He raises an eyebrow at me as if silently questioning my sanity.

“I almost kissed you at the end of semester party; I was going to ask you to come home with me that night and then dump John the next day.” His eyes widen and a blush creeps over his cheeks as he remembers how the night had ended.

“But then I threw up.”

“Mhm, and once you'd sobered up you acted is if that night had never happened.” Ivar's eyes slide shut and he inhales sharply at my words.

“Shit.” I giggle at his outburst while he just shakes his head in disbelief. Ivar turns on his side, cupping my face in his hands.

“So. Fucking. Stupid.” Each word is followed by a kiss and my hands instinctively goes to behind his head, pressing us closer together. Once we're both out of breath we loosen our grip on each other and I settle down with my head resting against his shoulder. I've almost drifted off again when a sudden realization hits me. Ivar groans angrily as I jolt upright, disappearing from his side.

“Ivar, we're going to miss the bus!”

“So?” He says with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It's Christmas break, our families are waiting for us.” Ivar rolls his eyes and pulls me down next to him, locking me in a tight grip against his side. His lips brush against the top of my head as he speaks.

“We don't even like our families.”


End file.
